Being marked by this man is incredible, and I want it more than anything right now. His fingers play with my clit while his thrusts get harder and harder.
"That's my girl, like that baby, ride me, take what's yours."
Just when I think the sensations couldn't get any more intense, the hand that was playing with my clit disappears, and the moan of disappointment that comes out of me makes him laugh softly.
"Don't worry baby, I'll keep playing with your little pussy."
And it does, because in the next moment the hand that was grabbing my ass appears between us taking its place, and the other goes to my ass again, but this time instead of grabbing me, I feel his finger, wet with my juices, go to my hole, and he begins to thrust gently.
My eyes widen when I realize what he wants to do.
"If you don’t want it, don’t like it, or if it hurts—you tell me. I’ll stop. Okay, princess?"
"Yes, Daddy… Please don’t stop."
I’m too far gone in the pleasure to hesitate. The stretch is real, unfamiliar, but not painful. Not with him. Not when I feel this safe. This wanted.
"One day," he murmurs, voice rough with desire, "when you’re ready… I’m going to fuck your ass as hard as I’m fucking your pussy. And you’ll take it—because you’re my perfect little slut."
"Yes, Daddy," I cry out, pleasure threatening to break me apart.
"That’s it, baby. Come for me. I want to feel you squirt all over my cock."
My body responds without hesitation, as if obedience has been etched into my skin. Maybe it has, because everything in me still bends to his will.
I scream his name as I shatter around him, gushing, trembling, completely undone. He keeps going, relentless andperfect, until just a few thrusts later, he lets go with a raw growl, burying himself deep as he spills inside me.
We collapse into each other—breathless, tangled, and marked.
When he finally slows, pulling me close, I rest my head on his chest, heart pounding in time with his.
“Always mine,” he breathes, kissing the top of my head.
“Always yours,” I whisper back, feeling every fear and doubt fade away.
He holds me tight, his hands tracing soothing circles along my back as we catch our breath. The world outside fades away—there’s only the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear and the warmth of his body pressed against mine.
“I want you to remember this,” he murmurs, voice low and tender. “No matter what happens out there, in here, you’re safe. You’re loved. You’re mine.”
I close my eyes, letting his words wrap around me like a shield. It’s more than just desire between us—it’s trust, care, and a fierce protectiveness that I’ve never known before.
He kisses my temple softly, then pulls me a little closer. "Mine," he whispers.
I nod against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. For the first time in weeks, the chaos in my mind begins to settle, replaced by something solid and real—his presence, unwavering and true.
And in this quiet moment, I know we can face whatever comes next—together.
The blanket he wraps around me is the softest one he owns—gray with a silky edge, like something made to swaddle the ache out of you.
***
I’m tucked into his lap now, curled sideways, cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat is slow. Steady. Like it’s beating just for me.
His fingers are in my hair, tracing lazy lines down my scalp while the other hand rubs slow circles over my back. Every touch says I’m here. You’re safe. You did so well.
Tears slip down my cheeks, but I’m not sobbing. It’s the kind of release that comes from being held exactly how you needed, without ever having to ask twice.
“I’m proud of you,” he says again, voice lower now. “You make me proud every day.”
